


Worst Case Scenario

by SmutWithPlot



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: #MerCree was First 'Watch, Deadeye Jesse is a Dangerous MoFo, F/M, Jesse was left-handed, M/M, No More Mr. Nice Guy, Pink Hanzo, Russian Roulette, Suicide, Survivor Guilt, death of #McHanzo, engaged #McHanzo, worst case scenario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 04:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11154135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutWithPlot/pseuds/SmutWithPlot
Summary: Jesse McCree has endured a lot of loss in his life... A lot of abandonment, isolation, terror, danger and more. But losing Hanzo was the last straw that broke him. // Angst and misery and pain and death and a messy end. Not for the faint of heart. 'Die in my arms' prompt gone horribly, horribly wrong.





	Worst Case Scenario

**Author's Note:**

> HAI GUYZ!
> 
> So, first of all, I do a lot of RP (and I mean a LOT of RP) in varying mediums, and for the last month, my obsession has been #McHanzo, thanks to a certain SOMEONE who shall remain nameless but is credited as helping me write this, who I know from the Critical Role chat (YES, THE ACTUAL CHAT.) and then the Facebook group and then general. We're both Mercer fan...persons, and I've liked McCree because of it. She sent me a certain piece of #McHanzo fanart (in specific, it is a pink/red background of the pair of them walking along, Jesse with a bottle of hooch, and Hanzo chugging his sake). My immediate response was a headcanon (I bet you Hanzo can actually drink Jesse under the table and he secretly finds that uber hawt) and the rest of the conversation begat "Rising Star", and then the rest of these shenanigans.
> 
> AAAAURGH!!!
> 
> So now, I have a Facebook RP account (not for the faint of heart! They're technically illegal by FB's Terms of Use, so you can lose your account at a moment's notice) for Jesse, and SXT has been writing a Hanzo for me. Not that I don't smut slut with other Hanzos anyway, but technically that's my go-to canon one. SOME PONY who I will also not mention (because it's not terribly relevant to the story) posted one of those RP prompt pics and shared it. This one being: "Comment with 'last breath' to have my character die in your character's arms." Much angst and pain ensued. But I think the best one was when Hanzo died in Jesse's arms, because I'm an evil, sick, twisted fuck like that. SO I DECIDED TO MAKE IT A FANFIC because that's how I roll. Everything past that is pure angst and madness, and not for the faint of heart.

"Hanzo? HANZO!!!"

Cursing under his breath, Jesse rolled out to the clearing, and snatched the samurai out of the line of fire. "What the hell are you doin', you crazy bastard?" he growled, dragging him behind cover. "Yer gonna get--" And then he stopped. Stunned, as he saw the extent of the damage.

At his front, wedged just above his gi, a bloody red gash, making the blue cloth black. The Storm Bow slipped from his fingers.

"Jesse-san?" he whispered. There was a trail of blood to mark their path as Jesse fell to his knees. "You're safe..." He seemed... delirious, having lost a lot of blood already. "I feel so warm...sticky...?"

Jesse's face broke and he sobbed. "Oh no... Oh, baby, please..." But he knew. He'd treated this wound before. If he didn't have a medic running at him right now -- and he looked up, and he sure as hell didn't -- there was no chance. And even then, it just took longer to die. "Han, please..." He gathered him close, pressing their brows together, tears slipping down his cheeks. "Oh, why did you do that?"

"You were in danger...I wanted to push you down..." he mumbled, hands weakly gripping his shirt.

He sobbed. "Oh, I'm down alright..." He sniffed, and then a weak little whine in his throat. "I ain' never gonna get back up." His eyes studied every facet of him -- the heavy lidded almond eyes, so coy and fond, the soft smile to his lips, the grumpy grumble to his voice, like when he was woken from a nap or tired... Hands in his shirt... _Mark it all down. Memorize this moment. You ain't never gonna see this face again_. He sobbed, loud and noisy.

"Why are you crying?" he asked. "I just...need a doctor..." His breathing got thinner and raspier.

"Oh, one's comin' baby," he whispered, giving him a wet smile. "They gon patch you right up," he lied. "Right as rain." He sniffed. "And then we're gonna get married. In the spring. Get to see me in that suit you picked out, hmm? It's gonna be great..." _Please, dear god,_ he prayed. _Give me one last smile_.

And he did smile, closing his eyes. "On the cliff side... Over the sea..."

"Dangerous and beautiful," he whispered. And then his voice broke, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Just like you, baby."

Hanzo opened his eyes again, drinking in his cowboy. "I feel warm and light... With you." Hanzo tried to lean forward, and Jesse held him close, pressing his lips to those, weak as they were, wanting him close, arms wrapped tight around them, Hanzo's hands weak fists in his clothes.

Hanzo began to go limp, too much blood...

"Yeah, you got it, baby. You and me..." Jesse tucked his head into the crook of his neck, hiding his tears as they slipped down his cheeks.

"Married now..." Hanzo smiled once more, and took his last breath with the thoughts of a wedding on his mind.

Jesse felt the body in his arms go heavy, and his face twisted, voice broken. "Married now," he echoed. His whole body shook, boiling with emotion, and when he pulled back... Hanzo's eyes were vacant. He out a pained yelp as he pulled his baby closer and let out an agonized cry. "God, why?! Why?!" He cried out, his body shaking sobs of pain. "Not my baby..." His hands clutched around, jealous and agonized. "Why did you take away my baby...?"

He threw his head back. "GOD, WHY?!"

He couldn't care about the chatter in his ear as he rocked with his lover in his arms, howling like a wolf to the sky. Someone called for a status report, another hunting down the missing archer and gunslinger. It was Tracer that spotted them, and reported in for an evac.

He was an animal, rage and fire, swiping at them in anger, and he fired at anyone that approached, friend or foe, wild and wide. They had to sedate him, and he didn't take that without a fight. When he woke, dropped in his own room with his hat on the dresser and serape missing, he woke with a panick, like from a bad dream.

_Hanzo was missing._

Peacekeeper had been confiscated until he passed a psych eval. Amari and her daughter saw to getting their deposit back on the venue, and the funds were put towards funeral costs. Genji did the arrangements, setting up a funeral service at the Watchpoint three days later.

Ana tried to bring McCree food, but he would go wild anytime someone approached. Reinhardt and Zarya had to do it, wrestling him into submission before he could be calm enough to bring food in. Even then, he didn't eat. He threw the plates at the walls, and shattered bottles of whatever drink he had left.

"Get a grip on yourself, man!" Reinhardt demanded, pinning him to a bed.

"GET OFF ME!"

"For god's sake," he wept. "Jesse, please... This isn't you."

"I SAID GET OFF ME!" Even his metal hand had damage, from punching the walls, solid steel and stone that still bore the brunt of his anger.

"Please! It's his funeral! Don't you want to go to that?"

That made him still, but the black rage in his eyes only quieted. They looked to Zarya who brought in a suit. Black. A button down in black too, but no tie. Jesse didn't wear ties. Her eyes watched him, in pain. But she left without saying a word.

Reluctant, Reinhardt stepped off as the man who had been McCree sat up, scowling.

He swallowed hard. "Jesse... Please. Can I do anything for you?"

"I want him back," he answered. "CAN YOU DO THAT?!" he roared, his chest heaving.

Reinhardt looked away, a tear slipping down his cheek. "No, I can't."

"THEN WHAT GOOD ARE YOU?!" he roared. He threw the remnants of something at the bigger man, who took the abuse with heartbreak.

"I'm sorry, Jesse." He moved to the door, and paused. "It's... at 5p. On the cliffside. Overlooking the Bay." He looked over at the clock that was smashed against a wall, black and dead. "It's almost lunch time... If you want to come eat with us."

McCree only crawled back into bed, curled like a shrimp over a threadbare pillow.

Reinhardt sighed, and shut the door.

And yet, at 1600, while Winston and Hana and Angela were setting up the place, casket on display and chairs being lined up, Jesse McCree arrived. Clean shaven for a change, hair washed and pulled back in a pony tail, hat nowhere to be seen. None of them said a word to him, and he spoke to no one, silent as a ghost (no spurs or BAMF belt buckle or leathers or denim...) as he moved to the casket. Angela whispered to Hana to fetch Genji and Reinhardt, and they came.

"What do we do?" Winston wondered.

But it was Genji who sighed. "Let him mourn."

Reinhardt and Winston shared a look.

Reinhardt hugged himself, wearing his own black suit. "I've never seen him like this. I mean, I've seen him in heartbreak and loss, but..."

"Mind you, he didn't come to the funeral for Jack and Gabe," Winston muttered. "Imagine if he'd been around for that?"

Reinhardt pulled a face. "I try not to."

From a distance, they watched him lean into the casket, saying god knows what... And then he reached down to kiss, and the faint sound of his sobbing came over the breeze.

Genji cursed. "Let us leave him to mourn, please."

Reinhardt bit his lip. "I don't think I can."

"Genji, he's dangerous," Winston agreed.

"He is but a heartbroken man," Genji argued.

Reinhardt laughed, a humorless thing. "He is more than that. He is a trained killer. And one who has just lost his humanity. He has been on a tight rope for a long time. I fear he may snap."

"Peacekeeper is still safe?"

"Yes. I checked on my way in." He sighed. "I'm surprised he came."

"I am not," Genji said. "But I fear what he'll do next."

After a time, he moved to a chair, head bowed and fingers clasped together. As Overwatch came in, some of them came to him, but he spoke to no one. Eyes shut, lips a thin line... He was barely recognisable as the gunslinger they knew. Even when Ana Amari tried to touch him comfort, he growled, /do not touch me/, and she stepped away, as if struck. Reinhardt and Winston took seats behind him, and the only one he would allow to sit beside him was Genji.

Winston lead the first, thanking everyone (looking to McCree, whose eyes watched with cold hatred to whoever was at the podium, making even the scientist wary) for coming. They took their turns, each saying their blessing and piece for the fallen warrior. At last, it fell to Genji and Jesse... and he looked up at that.

"[You or me first?]" he asked, in Japanese.

His jaw clenched. "You go," he answered, his voice gravelly with disuse.

Genji rose, speaking of forgiveness, of family, of honour. Of the Shimada name, and how it had been Hanzo's dream... And how he had found a new dream. He looked to Jesse, and the eyes quieted. He spoke of new family, and a better kind of honor. Something worth dying for. "Every day we have is a gift, and it must not be wasted. It was a lesson I tried to teach my brother for a long time. My consolation is that he did, in time, learn it. And lived his life to fullest. I know that he would die with... few regrets. And those he had, would only be that he was not here to do more."

Polite applause, and in the midst of it, McCree stood. Genji approached him gently, and Jesse reached out his left hand. Genji took it, squeezing it.

"Good luck, Oniisan," he said, softly.

Jesse watched him, looking for all the world like a spooked beast... But he took the stand. His breathing was... thin, ragged, and he stared at the wood, like he hadn't seen it before.

He took another breath.

 _Breathe_ , a voice echoed in his brain.

His face broke in a sob, and he turned about, pressing his hand to his mouth, looking back at the casket. He stepped forward, tears slipping down his cheeks as he looked down at him... Resplendant, hair loose in beautiful tendrils around him. It had been tied when he'd first come in, and he had to fix that. He should have been holding a branch of sakura.

He sniffed as he approached the podium. "He-he should be holding sakura," he said, voice thin. "He loved sakura. Anything pink," he laughed, pained. "Lychee candy... tequila rose." He shook his head. "For all his... austere, warrior-spirit..." He sighed. "He loved pink." He looked up at them all, seeing the pain, and fear, in their eyes. He wrapped his hand around the podium, and looked down at his ring. "We went to his... To his homeland, for his birthday. To see the... cherry blossoms." He sniffed. "Hana Matsuri, they call it." He looked up. "Buddha's birthday. He said once... He was on Tokyo on business. Arranged to have his birthday off, sat at the park and watched the flowers. Eat a bento. 'Just me and Buddha', he said." He swallowed hard. "And then it was me and him. So many..." He is about to break, his breathing thin and panicked. "So many breakfasts. And dinners. Movie nights... Christmas with kaiju... Stealing my fucking hat..."

There was polite laughter, and he gave a weak, wet smile. He looked up at them again... They felt like strangers. "So many of you... Barely know me." He sniffed. "And that's my own fault. I... play the cowboy. Tall tales and half-believed legends." He laughed. "How many of you still think my name really is Jesse James McCree?"

They blink at him, and his face breaks.

"...He didn't care. If I was some... washed up nobody from Santa Fe." A shuddering breath. "He was fucking royalty. I was... A punk. With a pretty smile and a good arm..." He waved his hand, letting the metal fall with a dull _thunk_. "He wasn't impressed." He looked out at them all. "I had to _earn_ his approval. And when I had it... It meant more to me than anything in the world." He looked down at his hand... and he pulled off his ring, tears slipping down his cheek. "You guys were going to hear my real name," he said. He turned the piece of gold in his fingers. He looked to Genji. "I had a ring, too. I was gonna pop the question, there under the sakura. Son of a bitch beat me to it."

"He was always faster than you," Genji teased.

"Competitive to the last," he agreed. He swallowed hard. And he looked back to his love. "Damn bastard wouldn't let me die for him, he had to do it first. With all due respect." He raised a one-finger salute to the corpse. "Fuck you, Hanzo. God, I hate you."

The rest of them muttered to themselves as he stepped off the podium, throwing the ring to the ground as he went.

" _Ibn,_ " Amari moaned, her daughter clutching her hand.

"Mama, I'm scared," she whispered.

"I think we're all bloody scared," Lena said.

Winston turned to Reinhardt. "His gun is secure right?"

"Zarya is guarding it."

Zaryanova was scared, too. She flexed her fingers on her gun as she saw the ghost of Jesse McCree stalk towards her.

"Stay back, McCree," she warned him. "Don't make me shoot you."

"If you were gonna shoot me, you'da shot me already," he answered. But he took a turn.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

She moved after him, heavy feet pounding, but when she turned the corner, he was gone.

"McCree?"

He stepped out, a gun of some kind in his hand. She raised to fire, but he shot first, a sonic _boop_  pushing her back.

"What are you doin--"

Another, and then another, sliding her back on her heel. She groaned through the pain, but it was enough to offset her, unable to get her balance, and he overtook her quickly, another _pop_  smacking her head on a doorframe, where his own physicality couldn't get past her defenses.

She let out a moan, and he delivered a pair of sharp strikes that brought her to her knees.

"The hell--?!"

Another jab to her hand and she dropped the gun on her own feet, cursing. Another shot to the back of the head point-blank and she was unconscious.

"I don't have to kill ya. But don't think I won't."

By the time Tracer and Amari were down there, he'd already had it loaded and pointed at them. Ana stood, gun to gun, with the man she had known as a boy... But she did not recognize him.

"Jesse..." she warned. "Ibn. Do not do this."

"How do you know what the hell I'm doin'?" There was no rhyme and song to his words now. Just a cold growl.

"What it is, it cannot be good," she answered. Lena's face was terrified as her eyes bounced between the two, ready for whatever happened next.

"McCree, really--"

And then he laughed, a dry cackle that didn't sound like him at all as the gun turned to her. "Oh, Lena. Lena Lena Lena. Precious little bouncing ball of energy." He sighed. "Thing is, I liked both of you."

"Why's that gotta be in past tense, love?" Lena asked, nervous.

"Everything's in past tense," he answered. "All of it. 'Watch, Reyes, Hanzo..." His face quivered in pain. "It's everything. It's over. Everything is done."

"Overwatch needs you, ibn," Amari whispered.

"Overwatch needs a _lot_ of things," he answered, switching his gun back. "Overwatch needs a MEKA pilot. Overwatch needs a sniper. Overwatch needs an archer and a tactician. Overwatch needs a dancing DJ who heals with the power of his _music_ ," he said, his words unkind as they twisted. "Overwatch needed Blackwatch. And Blackwatch needed me. It needed you. Trained killers. People who can shoot other people without remorse. You had a family to go home to. A husband, a child. You could compartmentalize, switch it all off. 9-to-5, card-carrying criminal. What's the bounty on your head, Amari?"

She didn't answer. "Don't make me shoot you, ibn."

"If you were gonna shoot me, you'da done it already."

McCree moves, and two shots are fired. One hits the wall, and the other hits Lena, who lets out a shriek of surprise. She goes to cycle out of it, but the damage is done, and she flickers from existence. Another shot, and a second. Amari cries out.

"Jesse, please!"

McCree snatches his gear off the wall and tosses it over his shoulder.

"...Didn't you wonder where the other bullet went Amari?"

"I..." But her eyes look over to Zarya, a splat of red on the wall. She gasps, hand to her mouth, and then back to him--

Staring down the barrel of the Peacekeeper.

"Do you remember who named this thing?" he asked.

 _You sound just like him,_ she thought, with horror. "Gabriel did."

"Damn right." Another shot.

He moves to a corner as steps come down the way. He cracks the pistol, pocketing the two left, and slips in a quick-load, cracking it back into place.

"Shots fired! Repeat, shots fired!

"Tracer, Horus, come in!"

"Oh god, he's gone _rogue._ "

"He's gone _mad_."

It's Morrison and Lucio, and a chattering Mei as well. _Shame,_ he thought. He waits until they're bottle necked in the stair well and then he fires. Lucio ducks away and Mei puts up a shield, while Morrison reports. McCree dances to the other side of the hallway.

"McCree sighted! Repeat! McCree sighted! He is definitely armed and dangerous."

"If you like your kids, Jack, you should send them to their room," he calls out. "I'm gonna shoot anyone who gets in my way." I crack open my pistol and replace the bullets, letting him think on that. There's a faint murmur of _I won't think anything less of you,_ and some foolish stubbornness on their part.

 _I gave you a chance,_ the man in black thinks, and he fires at the ice, one-two-three. Morrison moves into the line of sight, and he lines up the shot. Morisson fires, but so doe McCree. He rolls as he goes, knowing it was coming, faster now that he's not burdened by spurrs and gear, and he finishes his spin with a scuff of dress shoes on stone. Morrison is down.

"Last chance," he calls out. Another two shots with the three, and then he flips it to pistol butt into the weak spot. When he comes through, there is no one.

No one alive anyway.

"You had this a long time coming," he says, slipping in a new round, kneeling over Morrison. "Part of me has a feeling you'll come back to haunt me. Like Reyes did. Don't think for a second that makes this any less sweet." He grabs his head with both hands, and twists, enjoying the telltale crack of a broken neck. "Fix that, you asshole." He pulls out the comm and sticks it in his ear to listen to the chatter."

[Morrison is down, repeat! Morrison is down!] Lucio is crying into the headset, his voice thick with tears. [Oh god, help us!]

He takes a moment to put on his belt, and takes comfort in the feel of the gun at his hip. His shoes clip nicely on the floor as he makes his way up the stairs.

[Everyone go back to your quarters!] Angela hisses. [I am putting the medbay on lockdown!]

"If I was you," he purrs into the headset, "I'd listen to the good Doc. I ain't afraid to shoot nobody who gets in my way."

The whole bass is a blur of red lights and screaming sirens. He isn't bothered by all that anymore.

[Jesse, please see reason,] Angela begs.

[Why?] he asks.

She doesn't know what to say.

[Did you really kill my mother?!] It's Fareeha, and she's in tears.

"I sure as hell did," he answers. "Stay outta my way, young'un, or you'll be next."

[How could you?!] she cries. [We were like family!]

" _Like_  family," he answers. "But we ain't family."

[Jesse, I know you're going through a lot right now--]

[Shut it, monkey man! Before I come over there and stuff your ass with enough peanut butter to make a Reese's jealous. And then feed your ass to the dogs.]

For once, the ape is silent.

[McCree-san.] Genji. [What can we do to help you?]

"Just stay outta my way."

He marches through the halls, not caring for any of it.

[What is your way?] he asked. [What are you planning? Where should I avoid?]

"Just stick to yourself and you'll be fine."

[Do you think my brother would want this?]

That makes him pause. He swallows hard. "...Your brother shoulda thought of that before he went and got himself killed."

He went back the way he came, and he catches Satya, hiding around a corner. She puts up a shield, and then a teleport, just in time for him to watch her foot disappear.

 _Not worth the bullet,_ he thought to himself. He makes a turn to the left, coming upon the med bay. It's locked down alright, metal sheets of walls covering the passage ways. And at the end of the hall, Reinhardt, in full armor.

"You don't have to do this, Jesse," he calls.

"And exactly what am I doin'?" he asks again.

He hesitated. "Killing people."

"I kill people all the damn time," he said. "Why you any different?"

There was a quaver to his hammer. "Because... we're your friends."

"Friends?" He stepped forward. "Where were you when Gabe died? Hmm? Did you ever come after my bounty? Did anyone bother to come check on Jesse? Hmm?"

That hammer shifted, hesitant. "I had no idea where to find you--"

"Did you _try?"_

"...I--"

A shot goes off, and Reinhardt gave a grunt. Another, and another.

[Mein gott, he's outside medbay!] Angela cried.

Another shot, and Reinhardt is down.

"Jesse, please..." his voice rasps.

"I'll make it quick."

Reinhardt swings, but Jesse rolls, firing again. The hammer drops, and then Jesse is on top of the mountain of a man, and claws off the helmet. His giant face is contorted in terror, eyes wide, as he looks down the barrel of Peacekeeper, and the soulless black eyes of the Deadeye.

"Nighty-night."

 _Ka-PANG_. A crack, and a reload.

[I just lost Reinhardt,] Winston reports, heartbroken, probably watching vitals on a computer screen somewhere.

The gunslinger tapped his comms. "I'm gettin' real tired a yer lip, monkey-man. Where the hell didja get that intel, ah? FUCKING MORONS? Easy extraction, he says! FUCK YOU."

[Jesse, I can't control my intel--]

"Call me 'Jesse' one more time, and I swear to God, you're next on my list." He tapped it off. "His fucking fault we're in Overwatch again to begin with..."

He moved to the console, holstering Peacekeeper. His fingers dance over the controls, an old override code from his Blackwatch days, modified for the new system.

_Always underestimated me._

The red flashes green over the metal doors, and they begin to screech upwards.

[MEIN GOTT, HE'S BROKEN IN! HE'S OVERRIDING MY SECURITY!] Mercy cries. He can hear her voice through the hall. [Oh my god, he's going to kill me!]

[He's killing all the old 'Watch,] Winston guesses. [Torbjorn, report!]

[And tell him where I'm at?! No way in hell! He's _on_  this line.]

"And that's why T is gonna outlive all a y'all," he says, mostly to himself. He ducks into med bay, grabbing a metal tray. When she comes out around the corner, staff swinging, he deflects it, the aftershock going into his arm, and he drops it. She screams, but he gets a shot off, and she cries out in pain.

"[Jesse, please!]" she begs in German. "[After everything we've been through--]"

She fires at him again as he ducks into the doorway, but it goes wide. He steps in, knowing it has a reload time, and just in case, he shoots again. She cries out, clutching her arm, her shoulder already bloodied.

"I'mma ask you the same question," he said. "How come you never came after me?"

"But I did!" she insists. "I looked for you. You are hard to find!"

"Why don't I believe you?" He's disappointed she felt she could lie.

"Jesse, honest! Where would I start?" She shrugged, clutching herself. "You were a runaway. An outlaw. It's not like I can send you Christmas cards."

"Sure you could," he answered. "But I know for a fact you didn't try."

And then she begins to cry. "Jesse, please..."

"Despite everything, I did care for you," he said, almost gentle. "I felt bad for leavin', but especially about leavin' you. When I came back, you acted like I was the bad guy."

"You _were_  the bad guy, Jesse," she whispered. "You were Blackwatch Operative Number One. We all thought you were privy to the whole--" She gasps as the gun goes to her face and she whimpers. "We thought you knew. About Gabe. And Jack. That you had somehow knew it was going to happen, like a rat leaving a sinking ship. You were a coward. No one trusted you."

"Well, if that ain't the most honest thing someone's ever said to me, I don't know what is," he murmured. "That almost makes me wanna spare your life."

Her eyes widened.

"...But only almost."

They widened a little more before her head tossed back with the bullet in her head. Her arms were crossed, like a bloodied angel who was praying for salvation.

He wondered if the Good Doctor would go to heaven, after you checked the lives she'd saved with the ones she'd taken over the years.

There was a click behind him.

"Put the gun down, Jesse."

He spun around, and a shot was fired, and he stumbled back, tripping over Angela's legs and going down. He raised to fire again, and another shot, as the pistol fell from his grip. He gasped... not even crying out in pain.

He looked up to Genji, passionless green eyes that were emotionless green slits.

"He would not want this for you, Oniisan," he said.

"Don't call me that," he growled.

"It means big brother--"

"I know what the fuck it means."

"And if you married my brother, it would make you my brother as well." He kicked the devil's gun away, his own still trained on Jesse. "You would still be my Oniisan."

He looked like he was going to be ill. "Hell, I liked Yankee-san better, and I _hated_  that name." He looked up at him, his own breathing thin. "You gon kill me?"

"Only if I have to," he answered.

And then he laughed. It felt too sharp, too cruel. "You don't, someone else will."

"It does not have to be that way."

"Who else is gonna do it?" he asked, that sing-song coming back to his voice. "Y'all really gonna let me stay after I kill off all the senior members?" He spotted Zenyatta behind him, lurking in the hall. "Or are you gonna set me loose? Like a wild dog, out to torment the rest of the neighborhood. Just not your problem anymore." He moved, and Genji tensed, stepping away as McCree dragged himself to his feet. "Let me go out there and get myself killed. Deadeye Jesse McCree. Man with 60 billion double dollars on his head."

His head cocked. "60 what?"

Jesse moved, and Genji fired again, but Jesse got there first, snatching the gun out of his surprised hands.

"Jesus, Jesse!" he cursed. "You gonna kill me next?"

"Probably." Jesse fired and Genji lurched back, electricity crackling. It was a non lethal gun. Idiot. Jesse reached for Peacekeeper and checked the ammo. /Three bullets/. He clicked it back... And regarded Genji.

_What can we do to help you?_

_Let us leave him to mourn, please._

_If you married my brother..._

_Oniisan..._

_Only if I have to._

This one, he would spare. He had done a lot to better himself as a person, and had brought Hanzo here, so that they could fall in love... For that, he owed him more than life.

Zenyatta, however...

He held the gun to the monk. The monk regarded him with little more than interest.

"Will you shoot me, gunslinger?"

"I'm debatin' it," he answered. "If you stay out of my way and manage to keep your zen philosophical bullshit and psychoanalyzin' to yourself, you might walk away from this unscathed. Are we clear?"

"Crystalline," he answered. He floated to one side. McCree made his way down the hall. The omnic did not follow.

[I'm on the move,] Winston reported, the effort to his voice suggesting he was indeed moving quickly. [I've put everyone's comms on stealth mode. I encourage you to abandon them wherever you are and relocate, preferably somewhere not easy to find.]

[He is not unreasonable,] Zenyatta reported. [If you cooperate and stay out of sight, you should be fine.]

McCree debated if that counted as a breach of their agreement, but decided he didn't really give a shit. Shootin' the Doc was like fish in a barrel, but with movin' targets, his desire to hunt was not so strong.

[Not unreasonable?!] Lucio called out. [He's murdering us in cold blood! You saying he's doing so with a clear mind?! Doesn't that make it _worse?!]_

[Kid, just keep yer mouth shut and your head down. The Devil broke loose in Gibraltar, and you do not want to meet him face to face,] Torbjorn warned. [Jesse is Blackwatch. He's trained for this shit. Be grateful to whichever God or Gods you favor he was on our side for as long as he was. And Jesse... I know you hear this. I'm hella sorry, kid. No one deserves to be goin' through what you're goin' through.]

He skid to a stop. "Old man, you keep up that talk, I'mma shoot you next."

[Only if you can find me,] he teased. [I'd hope our history could mean somethin', but if you can shoot Angela, past don't mean shit.]

"She did me more wrong than you could imagine," he answered. "But I don't wanna talk about it."

[She did a lot of people wrong,] he said. [She's a Doctor. She does everyone wrong. I know you hated that arm. That's why I tried to spice it up for ya. I know you resented it. Having to learn with your right. Every check up, every tune up, every time you had to go to someone else to pull yourself together because they stitched you up with Omnic bullshit...]

"I _really_ want you to stop talkin'."

[...And she'd always get on ya about the smokin' and drinkin'. I get it, son, I do.]

"Don't call me 'son'. I ain't your son."

[Might as well be. Come to us the way you did. You were still a kid. Younger than these young'uns. 17, spitfire. Hearin' you talk, you weren't nothin' without that hand. It was all you were good for. You lied about your past, spinning yarns to see which ones sold well. Tweak and update them for whoever you were talkin' to. You made shit up about yourself, wantin' people to like you. But then, if they liked you, they were likin' the lie. They didn't like the real you. Never would.]

Jesse's feet turn, and he heads in a certain direction.

[We tried to take you in, make a family for you. Can't imagine what it was like for you, losing First 'Watch. And Blackwatch. I mean, Genji was a brother in arms, but you had lots of those. Blackwatch was somethin' else. You guys saw some _shit_. And Reyes rode you hard. Hard as anyone had ever rode you. I could tell. He tempered you like steel, making you hard and mean like him.]

Jesse found a door to the outside, checking perches.

[You didn't leave because you were a coward. You weren't scared of nothin'. Not even a demon like Reyes. You were heartbroken. Because the first real family you'd known was coming apart at the seams. In-fighting, brother against brother. Blackwatch versus the Blue. No one trusted anyone. And in the aftermath of the investigation and everything else...]

Jesse found him, talking into a head set. Eyes met eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks.

"...No one bothered to look for McCree," he said, blinking out more tears. "I get it, son. I do."

"Don't call me that," he said, raising the gun.

"But you were," he insisted. "I have so many kids, but I worry for and miss all of them. I talk about all of them. I love all of them."

Jesse swallowed. "Then why didn't you come for me, old man?"

"I had little ones," he said. "I couldn't leave 'em. You were grown. I had to trust you could look after yourself."

"With that bounty?"

He smiled, a sad thing. "You like tall tales, but I know at least some of that was well-earned. You're a lot tougher and scarier than you look." He doesn't look down the barrel of Peacekeeper, he looks into those eyes. "We all underestimated you. What he meant to you. First Gabe... And now Hanzo. I'm sorry it happened this way."

McCree hesitated. He debated for a long time...

_If you were gonna shoot me, you'da done it by now._

He lowered his gun and clenched his jaw. "You were the only one did right by me, old man."

"I tried to," he said.

Jesse looked down at his boots. He sniffed, tears in his own eyes. "Will you--" His voice broke, and he let out another breath. "I want you to go collect my bounty. Take care of your kids. Can you do that for me?"

Torbjorn nodded. "Of course."

He nodded. "I... If I can't be buried with him, plant me under a sakura tree."

He gave a smile and nodded. "Sure."

"And..." His chest tightened. "And play Elvis. 'Only Fools Rush In'." He sniffled, his voice breaking. "Tell 'em I died of a broken heart."

Torbjorn nodded, tears falling down his cheek. "You died days ago."

"I did..." He looked out at the ocean, and then to him. He clapped a hand to his shoulder, and Torbjorn squeezed it in kind.

"Love ya, Jesse."

A thin laugh. "Love you too, old man."

There was radio silence. Somewhere on the compound, the rest of Overwatch was in a panick over the wrath of Jesse McCree. The gunslinger took himself to a perch... A perch that wasn't often used, and as such a favourite of his for smoking, and for quiet talks with his lover. It overlooked the bay. In fact... if you leaned out far enough, you could see the tops of the set up for Hanzo's funeral up there.

 _I'd go to you, baby,_ he said. _But I don't want you to see me this way._

He reached in his pocket, and pulled out the yellow silk ribbon he'd pulled from his lover's hair. He bent over it, letting his pain out in a rack of sobs. He wrapped it around his palm, and then pulled out his gun. He sniffed, cracked it open... _Three bullets._

He cracked it shut. And then... He let it spin.

 _I play Russian roulette every day -- a man's sport! -- with a bullet called life,_ his brain sang. _Yeah! A bullet called life!_

He put the gun to his temple and let out a deep sigh.

 _Alright, baby,_ he said. _50/50 chance. I live... I live on. I bury you proper, I get the fuck over myself, go to prison for my crimes if need be, live life as outlaw, life carries on. There is no more status quo, but the sun comes up, and the world still spins. But if this bullet goes off..._

He looked to that cliff, and the out to the sky, painter's colors heralding in the evening, the bay below blue and welcoming.

 _...I join you. On the other side._ He sniffed, his hand shaking. _I really want it to go off this time. Just once, I want to lose this game. This stupid... fucking game. I'm uppin' the ante, hopin' the house calls my bluff._

He swallowed, a harsh exhale, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

And he pulled the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> References:  
> The Man In Black - Johnny Cash  
> The Man Without A Name - Clint Eastwood  
> Jesse James - the outlaw!  
> "You know that's not my real name, right?" and "Yankee-san" are from "Hang the Fool" by AlmaMaDuele (FUCKING AMAZING FIC)  
> Pink Hanzo! is a trademark of mine. I blame "Jack Rabbit", but it bleeds into everything.  
> The $$60 billion bounty is a reference to Trigun - the title character, Vash the Stampede, Humanoid Typhoon has a sixty billion double dollar bounty on his head, dead or alive. Doesn't help that no one can seem to agree on what he looks like, but there are plenty of people chasing him for it.  
> "The Devil broke loose in Gibraltar" is a riff on "The Devil Went Down To Georgia". "Johnny resin up your bow and play your fiddle hard/Cos hell's broke loose in Georgia and the devil deals the cards/If you win, you get this shiny fiddle made of gold/And if you lose the Devil gets your soul..." I kinda smashed the two together.  
> The "Don't call me son" bit and "There is no more status quo/The sun comes up and the world still spins" are from Hamilton. In the first, Washington is dressing down Hamilton for his part in the duel, and refers to him a "son" three times, enough to make Hamilton snap on him -- being an orphan himself, with a father who ran out on them when he was a kid and his mother having died when he was young. As Michael Westen in Burn Notice notes, orphans and kids from broken families make the best secret agents. They are cold, manipulative, and don't really mind being abroad for several months out of the year away from their families. Any kid who is a renowned gunsman at 17 and picked up out of a biker gang to be a black ops specialist is definitely not the sort of person with a happy home life. The second is Jefferson, who is freshly home France: "France is following us to Revolution, there is no more status quo. But the sun comes up and the world spins." The world is changing, and yet life marches on, completely unaffected by things as mortal as war and revolution. A similar kind of sentiment for a man whose entire life has changed, even though the rest of the world is not as affected by it as he is.  
> The song Jesse is referring to is "Falling In Love With You (Fools Rush In)" by Elvis Presley. It is also referenced in "Jack Rabbit" and "Hang the Fool".  
> The Russian roulette line is from "Sugar" by System of a Down. For added bonus, there's a bit of domestic violence in the lyrics for that one, too. SOAD has a lot of really fucked up content, I enjoy listening to them when I'm writing psychos and crazies. This track in particular kind of sums up Jesse's sentiments at the moment: What do I feel? What do I say? FUCK YOU, it all goes away. In the end, it all goes away, in the end, it all goes away!  
> And yes, there's an implication that Jesse has played 'Russian Roulette' before, but I'm 'upping the ante' (adding more bullets). If you're not familiar with the game, it's a game of death and chance. Largely for psyhological torture, I imagine. You traditionally use a six-shooter revolver, and put in one bullet, spin it, and put it to your head (or someone else's) on the off-chance that you have the one with the bullet, or if you pull a blank. It's a 1 in 6, but that's still a 1 in 6 you get your head blown off, so not really a game you would be playing willingly. Unless you're suicidal. I have a feeling Jesse has played willingly and unwillingly, but that's because I'm realistic with my veterans and give them survivor's guilt and suicidal ideation and PTSD, because that shit is real and it exists.  
> "I'm uppin' the ante, hopin' the house calls my bluff" being gambling terms. 'Ante up' is your bet, the money you're putting on the line. Double down is doubling your bet, hoping can quadruple your winnings, or chance losing it all. "The House" being the house of business, the hotel or casino (or actual home, if it's a home game) hosting the game. If you're sitting in Vegas playing a game, the dealer (and the hotel) would be "the house" -- the games are usually rigged in the house's favor, because it's designed to make them money and keep you gambling. A bluff being a lie, such as win you put down more on your wager to imply you have a strong hand and anticipate winning, when you really have a shit hand, generally to psyche out your opponents to fold their hands and back out of the round. Poker is particularly well-known for being more about the mind fuckery than the actual cards themselves. Jesse McCree has a lot of gambling references in his character design, which goes well with his cowboy motif.
> 
> I'LL FIGURE OUT HOW TO PUT A DEAD MAN'S HAND IN ONE OF THESE, IT'S ON MY LIST.
> 
> Also: a kill count of six. A good number. Six bullets in a gun. Not counting the Roulette. End it how you like.


End file.
